


Contrivance

by shinaho



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, my city now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-22 00:22:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14925840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinaho/pseuds/shinaho
Summary: They play chess under moonlight, and it feels like there's nothing else in the world but the two of them.





	Contrivance

**Author's Note:**

> if youre reading this and the game is already out and youre going to try to correct me on any of the lore i had to make up for this shit: dont.

“Lord Claude? Are you in here?” Claude hears a voice speak out- Mercedes, one of the noblewomen residing in the castle as well. A sweet girl, gentle, kind, and timid. She works hard, and often shoulders unnecessary burdens. Claude closes his book, and sets it on the end table next to him. 

“Yeah, I’m here.” He says. Mercedes comes to meet him in one corner of the library, and holds a letter in her hand. She takes a seat next to him, and pulls it out of the envelope. The paper has begun to yellow, and the writing is sloppy and untidy. “What’s that about?” Claude leans forward, and leans his elbows on his knees. 

Mercedes hands the letter to Claude. He scans it up and down, but can only make out half of the words. The handwriting is practically illegible. “I’ve just received news from Archanea.” Mercedes says. “I’ve looked into employing a new tactician to lead the army and act as a royal advisor. His name is Byleth.” Claude turns the letter over in his hands. Mercedes watches, her eyes following the movements of the parchment. “He should be arriving today.” 

Claude hands the letter back to Mercedes, and stands from his chair. “Well, we better get ready then, shouldn’t we?” He grins, and heads towards the hallway. Mercedes quickly gathers her things and follows suit, a step behind him. “We’ll need to prepare a room for him. There’s an empty one next to mine, yes?” He stops and looks back at her. “Write this down.” 

Mercedes fetches a quill from the closest study and begins to write on the envelope of the letter they had received. Her handwriting is neat, even though she has nothing to write on and is walking at a brisk pace. ‘Prepare a room near Lord Claude’s, cook a fine feast as celebration, gather the finest strategy books in the library, write an analysis of the army’s condition…’ The list trails on. Mercedes gives the instructions to a Lady-in-waiting who divides the tasks amongst the servants and cooks. 

“Lord Claude! Mercedes!” A maid rushes up to them. Her face is red and she’s out of breath from running through the castle. She curtseys before the nobles, and her head is down as she catches her breath. “A newcomer who calls himself Byleth has arrived. He wishes to speak with you!” 

“You may stand.” Mercedes says, and the maid resumes good posture. “Lord Claude, would you mind meeting with him alone for now? I was about to meet with army commanders about the state of things.” She looks up at him with gentle, pleading eyes. 

Claude shakes his head. “I suppose I can’t refuse. Have Byleth wait in the grand hall. I’ll be there shortly.”

“Yes, Lord Claude!” The maid says, and rushes off. She holds her skirt as she dashes down the staircase to bring the message. 

Claude laughs and turns to face Mercedes. “What should I be expecting? Who even is this Byleth guy?” 

“I… I don’t really know much, myself.” She stutters. “But he’s extremely skilled, and one of the cleverest minds from Archanea. Don’t make a fool of yourself in front of him.” 

Claude does, in fact, make a fool of himself. 

When Claude thinks of tacticians, he thinks of scholarly old men. Well, no. Maybe not old-old, but old. Middle aged. Men who have seen some things, had experiences, but still has a lot left. Someone who would be as old as Claude’s father, if only his father were still alive. Men with dark hair, maybe greying. And wrinkled faces, but not extremely wrinkled. Dull eyes, plain clothes. A boring person. And so that’s what Claude expected. 

Byleth is nothing like that. He instantly commands Claude’s attention. The blue of his hair and the black of his armor stands out against the golden walls and light columns of the grand hall, and he sits right in the middle of it all. Claude watches him for a moment as Byleth stares out the window at the birds in the trees, and before long he notices Claude in the doorway. 

“Would you happen to be the Lord of this castle?” He asks. His voice isn’t as deep as Claude expected it to be. It’s quite cute, and Claude is taken a bit off guard. 

“Yeah!” He laughs nervously. He approaches the table where Byleth sits, and takes a seat across from him. “You’re Byleth, right?” 

Byleth doesn’t speak for a few moments, and instead studies Claude’s face. His eyes dart between Claude’s earring, his braid, his soft green eyes, and his tanned skin. Being under Byleth’s gaze gives Claude anxiety. Dozens of questions run through Claude’s mind in those brief seconds. Why is Byleth staring like this? Does Byleth think he’s unprofessional for the way he dresses? Does he think he’s ugly? Does he think he’s handsome? 

“That’s not how you pronounce my name.” Byleth says, finally. “It’s pronounced Byleth.” 

“Oh! I’m sor-“ 

“It’s no matter.” Byleth interrupts Claude’s apology, and leans back in his chair. He crosses his arms in front of him. “So, Lord Claude, as I understand I’m under your employment from here on?”

Claude gives him a charming smile, as if to make up for how awkward things have been up until now. “Just Claude is fine.” If the two of them are going to be working so closely together, it would be best for them to be friendly. 

Byleth closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I think I’ll continue calling your Lord Claude, for now.” Claude’s smile wavers slightly. He was having a sort of… conflict of interests. Byleth was so attractive, but why did he have to be so aloof? Byleth’s hair is an elegant greyish blue, and hangs over his sharp eyes, which are a much bolder shade of blue. His lashes are long, and beautiful in an almost feminine way. His pale skin is clear of any acne or blemishes, and he purses his lips as he shoots down all of Clude’s offers at friendship. “Would you mind showing me to my room? I’d like to put away my belongings.” 

In a weird and twisted way, Byleth is probably the perfect tactician for Claude. Claude usually leaves tactics for individual commanders to figure out for their own. He isn’t good at that sort of thing. Fodlan has been peaceful since he took the throne, thankfully, so the disorganization and lack of communication never seemed like an issue. They made it work. But with Byleth in charge, things are taken more seriously. 

Byleth creates weekly plans for how the squadrons will train, so that each can cover the weaknesses of the others. Mock battles are planned to see how units fair and to assess the abilities of commanders. He studies tactical manuals and textbooks every night to discover new strategies and to come up with ideas never seen before. In his free time, he can often be found sitting alone in the library, reading or playing chess against himself. Nobody has yet been able to beat him at it, and yet Claude still likes to try. 

The first time they play, it’s by chance. Byleth happens to need to borrow a nightshirt- the maids still haven’t given him his laundered clothes- and so he asks to borrow one from Claude. “A chessboard?” Byleth says, taking a look around Claude’s room as Claude digs through his closet. “Do you play?” His voice is filled with curiosity. Claude can’t blame him; Chess doesn’t seem like his sort of thing. 

On the board sits a game half finished. “I used to play with my little sister. I’m not very good.” Claude replies. His voice is muffled as he looks for night clothes that would fit Byleth. “I haven’t played in a while.” It’s been a long time since Claude had time to play with his sister again. When their father died, Claude took over the royal duties, and his younger siblings were forced into the political issues their father tried to keep them from. Claude hasn’t put away the pieces yet, hoping maybe one day they can finish the game. 

He finds a shirt, and quickly tosses it to Byleth. Byleth being shirtless, standing in his room like this… it just makes Claude feel hot and bothered. Claude tells himself he may just be ill. More so seeing Byleth wear one of his bright yellow shirts, as opposed to the usual greys, blacks, and blues, gives Claude an odd feeling in his chest. He’s most definitely coming down with something. “Would you like to play me?” Byleth says. “I’d like to see how you play. It may be a learning experience.” 

“I’m sure I’ll lose.” Claude says. He’s not confident in his skills, especially not up against the smartest person in the castle. “It’s been at least a year or so, after all.” 

“Just humor me.” Byleth says, setting up the board. Claude ends up agreeing. He just can’t say no to him. 

And so they play. As Claude takes his turns, his hands shake, just slightly. He doesn’t want to disappoint his tactician. He wants to make Byleth proud, to impress him, to give him a fun challenge. It doesn’t come as any surprise when Claude loses. He wasn’t a natural born genius like Byleth. He always acts first and thinks later, but Byleth scolds him for it. 

“That was enjoyable.” Byleth says. He has a genuine smile on his face. It makes Claude’s heart skip. “I wouldn’t mind doing this again with you, if you wouldn’t mind.” His words are kind and inviting, and Claude feels warm. He doesn’t want to say goodnight just yet. He wants to play again, and practice, and learn, and listen to Byleth’s soothing voice teach him all kinds of moves and ideas he has yet to learn about. But alas, Byleth leaves, and Claude’s room is enveloped in the cold and lonesome dark. 

Soon, they play again. And again. And again. Chess games become something that they both look forward to, no matter how unevenly matched they may be. They play in the early hours of the morning, after the lights are out and everyone is asleep. A single candle lights the room so that they no one knows they’re still awake. Neither notice the quick passage of time, almost going to dawn. It’s quite a dangerous game, but they can’t get enough. 

 

They spend more time together during the day as well. Claude offers to teach Byleth how to use a bow. Their hands touch as Claude shows Byleth where to hold the bow, the arrow, the string, how to stand, how to move. When Claude places his hands on Byleth’s back he can see him sharply inhale. Out of discomfort? Nerves? Claude can’t tell, and so he takes his hand away. Byleth frowns more than usual. 

They eat lunch together, in the gardens, in the mess hall, in Claude’s room. Anywhere where they can be alone they enjoy. They make light chatter, of nothing of importance. The weather. Local news. Updates from other kingdoms. Claude likes to share gossip, but Byleth just laughs it off, saying it’s not true. Though their talk is meaningless, they enjoy it more than anything. 

Games of chess soon become something more. They become conversations under moonlight, they become solace from the harsh realities of royal duties. Byleth confides in Claude of the family he left behind when he came to Fodlan, of the horrors of war he’s seen. Having to face his own brother as opposites on the battlefield- Claude could never imagine it. Claude confesses his fears, his insecurities, his weaknesses, his hopes. The two of them have each other when they have nothing else. 

There’s a chessboard our in the garden, on a patio where they can see the small pond and the fluttering of the leaves, where the flowers bloom around them and where they are alone and undisturbed. The sunlight is softly filtered through the white clouds, and blankets them where they sit. They smell the scent of the dew and the grass and the yellow acacia trees. Their words are soft, barely heard above the rustling of the branches, they’re happy and their hearts are full. 

“You know, what, Byleth?” Claude asks. No one is near, nowhere near close enough to hear their words. What they say is meant for only the two of them, and that’s how they prefer it to be. 

“Yes, Lord Claude?” Byleth’s eyes are closed as he takes in the scene. Everything is serine, calm, tranquil, perfect. 

“I…” Claude hesitates. “I think I may be in love with you.” He says as his face warms. He looks down at the queen in his hands, and uses it to take a pawn. 

Byleth smiles. “It seems we feel the same, then.”

Claude wins that game, out of his own skill. 

That night, they return to Claude’s room, not to play but to be together. They sleep in each other’s arms, to rest their tired souls, to heal and rejuvenate and be born anew together.

**Author's Note:**

> i have to do all the work around here


End file.
